RTS System in the Apocalypse-Chapter 139: Against the City Tides - II

"Hold the line!"

A squad leader urged while blasting the heads of five zombies in one sweep.

Blood drenched his uniform in horror.

The zombies had gotten close—too close for comfort.

If I wasn't a three-star, I would have been in the same situation as them!

Only a small number of the Machine Gunners responded with suppressive fire.

And the Guardian GIs that remained operational could be counted in one hand.

The Hellhammers targeted farther into the horde. The trench line was too close for artillery support.

The Vanguard tanks continued firing elsewhere—at the charging brutes or the dense clusters forming behind the front wave.

The Guardian APCs idled behind them, their autocannons ready as soon as the second empty ditch was breached.

The squad leader wiped the blood from his visor and forced himself to focus.

"Machine gunners, get those SAWs back up!"

Only two of them answered—Mason, and another MG that was luckily unaffected.

Their barrels roared again, spraying long bursts across the field as the operators fought through the ringing in their ears.

But the momentary pause had already done its damage.

The horde had closed half the distance.

Zombies poured into the first ditch in even greater numbers than before.

Dozens fell, and more climbed over them.

Hands slowly clawed into the dirt, scratching their way back up to the open ground.

Rotting fingers gripped the trench walls, one piece of earth at a time.

"Grenadiers, they're climbing! Where the hell are you?!"

A Guardian GI leaned over the sandbags and fired.

Thump!

The grenade landed inside the ditch and detonated, tearing bodies apart and collapsing the pile.

But more zombies replaced them instantly; the corpse mound grew higher and higher.

And this time—some of them almost reached the top.

The view above was breathtaking indeed—it was the last thing they would ever see.

A rocket streaked across the sky and plunged straight into the mound of bodies.

The screamer's shriek cut off mid-cry as the missile detonated.

Fire and shrapnel blasted outward, shredding the climbing infected and collapsing the pile that had just formed.

Burning bodies tumbled back into the ditch—lifeless.

The line held again.

The missile's scream snapped everyone back to their senses. The moment of shock passed as quickly as it came.

"Machine gunners, full suppression!" the squad leader from before ordered.

The SAWs answered at once—now in full price.

Mason leaned into this weapon and held the trigger down. The machine gun roared like an angry beast, its barrel flashing as another belt of ammunition vanished into the storm of bodies.

Beside him, the second gun joined in.

Two streams of tracers carved through the horde, cutting down the infected that had nearly climbed out of the ditch.

"Guardian GIs, keep the grenades coming!"

Thump. Thump. Thump.

More 40-millimeter rounds arced over the trenches and landed into the corpse-filled pit.

Explosions erupted again and again—whether from the GGIs, the Missile Infantry, the Vanguard MBTs, or the Hellhammers from afar.

The infantry finally found their rhythm again.

Army Soldiers leaned over the sandbags and resumed disciplined bursts.

One shot.

One corpse.

Another shot.

Another body fell.

Across the line, the defense reassembled itself piece by piece, stalling the horde again.

Machine gun fire ripped the front ranks. Grenades burst among the corpses filling the ditch.

And every zombie that managed to crawl out was greeted by a bullet. Or two.

Then something sinister arced across the sky.

It wasn't a rocket. Nor an artillery.

It was green.

"Biler!"

The projectile splashed meters away from the nearest occupied trench.

Acidic bile exploded; thick smoke hissed upward as the earth began to melt.

"Move! Move!" a squad leader urged.

Soldiers shifted away from the smoking patch of ground nearby as the corrosive fluid swallowed the dirt whole.

But before they could breathe, another green projectile appeared.

Then another.

And even more.

They splashed harmlessly against the empty sections on the open ground, hissing violently as if they were chewing through flesh.

"They're firing blind!" one soldier shouted, elation mixed in.

"Snipers, find those bilers!"

High above the battlefield, Zolyah's scope swept through the endless sea of heads.

The bilers were easy to spot—the vile green liquid gave their position away.

No matter how dense the horde is, you can't get away from me!

Zolyah held her breath and locked to an oblivious biler. Its swollen torso rose above the swarm as it leaned back, preparing another projectile.

The Barrett recoiled harshly, spewing its large caliber out.

The target snapped backward as the round punched straight through its chest.

Green fluid popped outward; the corpse vanished rapidly under the trampling horde.

"Sniper got it!" a soldier yelled from the trench.

Another shot followed from another building, collapsing a second biler before it could spew the bile already on its throat.

The rest of the sniper teams joined in on the hunt. Sharp thunderous shots echoed above the machine guns.

One by one, the bilers disappeared, yet never ceasing to exist.

"Targets down," Zolyah muttered. "More to go! Don't let your guard down, Echo Teams."

She shifted her scope farther into the horde, letting the rest deal with any bilers or screamers that appeared.

These two were targets easier than the rest, but something else caught her attention.

A larger figure moved among the infected. At first, it looked like another brute.

Then the creature raised its arm.

Zolyah frowned at its strange behavior.

Its right limb was grotesquely swollen—more than twice the size of the other. Muscles twisted beneath the torn flesh as the arm reached down into the swarm.

Not debris, but a handful of struggling zombies.

It lifted the bodies like sacks of meat.

This one again! Zolyah cursed.

The experience back at Pandora flashed instantly on her mind—rocks and walls falling like droplets, almost wiping the entire platoon if not for the quick response.

The scenery broke—her eyes widening as her scope tightened on the creature's head.

"Thrower!" she warned through the comms. "Soldiers at the front, take cover!"

But the monster had already moved; the massive arm swung forward.

Corpses flew through the air. They spun wildly above the battlefield before slamming straight into a sandbag nest.

The impact burst the barrier apart.

Two soldiers were thrown backward as the rotten bodies crashed into their position.

"Ahhh! Medic, fuck. I'm, I'm—!" one of them passed out.

Two pairs of male Medics dashed into the scene, picked up the injured soldiers, and rushed back to a makeshift infirmary.

Meanwhile, up above, Zolyah exhaled slowly.

"Not this time—you won't!"

She steadied her rifle above the ledge.

The battlefield trembled below the endless gunfire, but inside her scope, the world had zoomed in to a single point.

The thrower lifted another stack of corpses. Groans escaped from its mouth; its swollen arm twisted backward, ready to throw another.

Slower than the last! Zolyah's finger tightened, the Barret booming on her hands.

The bullet struck the creature's skull, bursting bone apart.

The thrower's massive body jerked sideways, strength draining from its limbs.

The corpses slipped out from its grip and disappeared under the pile of bodies.

For a moment, the monster remained standing, unwavering.

But the weight of the horde swallowed it whole.

Zolyah cycled the bolt, smirk planting on her face.

"Thrower down."